


But I Was Already There

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time for Oliver and Felicity, after a return from the dead, three weeks of making out, and one night of whispers and growls.  Post-3x09, but with no real spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Was Already There

**Author's Note:**

> The first line is still the best part of this, I think. I hope the rest of it is half as good, because I’m still not sure about this fic--it just didn't turn out the way I imagined it would. But hey, if you guys enjoy it, it's all good. :-) Title from _Shook Me All Night Long_ by AC/DC.

It was when he realized Felicity’s hands were gripping his bare ass—and that she must have undone his leather pants to get her hands there—that Oliver had to admit he had lost control of the situation.

Or maybe it was just when he had practically tripped down the stairs in his eagerness to just get close to Felicity. 

Perhaps he lost it the moment he told Felicity, in the aftermath of their second kiss that left him dizzy and breathless and overwhelmed, that he thought they should make sure they were going to have sex for the right reasons, not the ‘you’re back from the dead and I feel like I have to prove something’ reason. 

Whenever it happened, he definitely wasn’t in the driver’s seat now. 

But that was okay with Oliver.

XXX

_One hour earlier . . ._

“He’s moving down Wilcox.” Felicity’s voice was barely above a whisper, coming through the comm link in his ear in soft tones that made it hard for him to focus on the drug dealer he was chasing. 

Because it made him think of how he wanted her to whisper like that in his ear when he was holding her. How he wanted to hear her let out soft little gasps as he touched her, as he slid inside her for the first time--

Shaking his head, Oliver revved his motorcycle and put on some extra speed. Slow. They were taking things slow, since neither of them had any doubt about each other being the one. They had plenty of time for the amazing sex he was sure they would have. Any day now. 

He had only been back for three weeks, after being gone for months. Months when Felicity thought he was dead and never returning to her. Months that he thought he might never see her again. There was a lot for them to work through--not just his absence, but what had happened since their ill-fated first date. He’d nearly screwed this up once; they wouldn’t be able to make it if they didn’t do this relationship right this time. 

So . . . slow. Lots of talking. Lots of listening. Lots of making out on her couch, in the Foundry when they were alone, in the alley outside Verdant . . . 

God, he kept finding new things about her that turned him on. And he kept falling more and more in love with her, making him wonder just what would have happened to him if he had never walked into that cubicle two and a half years ago with that laptop. 

“Cameras have him picking up speed,” Felicity narrated, her whisper making her words slide together, all soft and smooth. “I bet he’s going to Starling General.” 

It was all Digg’s fault that Oliver was regretting tight leather pants and a motorcycle right now. The babysitter for Sara had fallen through at the last minute, and Digg had brought his daughter to the Foundry so Felicity could keep an eye on her. Sara had started teething and was so fussy that once she fell asleep, everyone wanted to make sure she stayed that way.

Which is why Felicity was whispering in his ear and making him very uncomfortable.

“Kinda ballsy, going to the hospital with an arrow in you,” Roy commented over the comms, two blocks behind Oliver on his own bike. “They’re gonna know his injury didn’t happen in a freak archery range accident.” 

“Pain makes people stupid,” Digg said. “I’m coming down Wilcox from the opposite direction, Felicity. Black Ford, you said?” 

“Yeah . . . he’s approaching the intersection with 3rd. Oliver, you should be the closest.” 

The sound of her speaking his name in that low voice made his vision gray out for a split-second. Because Roy and Diggle’s words were reminding him all too well of his problem and then Felicity saying his name on top of that . . . 

This was why they were taking things slow. So they’d have time to adjust. Learn boundaries. Not maul each other all the time. Even though he’d felt more in control of his body as a teenager. Even though last night’s make-out session on Felicity’s couch, cut brutally short by Arrow business, had left him buzzing all day, since there had been no time to see Felicity and release any of the tension. 

Tonight. After they dealt with this latest scumbag, he was going to ask Felicity if she wanted to drink that bottle of wine they hadn’t even opened last night. And like adults in a committed relationship, they were going to talk about taking that next step. Together. 

He could do this. He could show Felicity that he wasn’t like Ollie. Or even the Oliver she met before, the one who was in love with Laurel while sleeping with Helena or dating McKenna. He was different.

Gritting his teeth, Oliver saw the black Ford ahead of him. “Copy, Felicity,” he growled out. “I see him. Arsenal, cut over to Pratt and go down to the back entrance of the hospital. Digg, stay on Wilcox.” 

A fight would be just what he needed to take the edge off. To let him hold on until after he had talked to Felicity. 

They moved into position just like Oliver had planned, herding the dealer until he drove into an alley and tried to escape on foot. And then the fight started . . . and ended with one punch. Roy hadn’t even arrived yet and Oliver was staring down at an unconscious drug dealer whose glass jaw left Oliver with very, very tight pants. 

“Damn it,” he muttered. 

Felicity’s voice, still hushed, had an extra urgency when she spoke. “Oliver?” 

“It’s nothing, Felicity,” he said. “Arsenal, no need to meet us. Go back to the Lair. Digg, can you drop off our latest present for Captain Lance?” 

“Actually, Digg, Sara’s starting to wake up again. And I am clearly not a baby whisperer like you are,” Felicity said. “Oliver, can you handle it?” 

_Oh, there was something he wanted to handle, all right--_

Biting his lip, Oliver held back the words. “Call SCPD and tell them the location,” he said, knowing he sounded annoyed. “I’ll wait until they’ve picked him up.” 

In agreement, Roy and Digg signed off, leaving Oliver alone in the alley. Even though he thought this guy wasn’t waking up anytime soon, he zip-tied his hands and feet, then stepped into the shadows, leaning back against the wall of the alley and taking deep breaths. 

“Oliver? Are you okay?” 

“Is it just us?” he asked, not wanting to share this with Roy and Digg. There was only so far male solidarity went when it came to this problem. Especially since he was pretty sure they both thought he and Felicity had already slept together and wouldn’t understand why they were holding off. 

Felicity let out a soft little sheepish laugh that made a chill go down his spine. In a good way. “Yes.” 

“Hey, you’ve been whispering in my ear for an hour,” Oliver protested. “And after last night . . .” 

“And you’ve been all growly in my ear for an hour,” Felicity said disgruntledly. 

It was probably really wrong that he felt smug at the moment. At the idea that Felicity was just as worked up as he was. That she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. 

And he really shouldn’t be thinking about this. But he just couldn’t seem to help it. He’d never held back from any challenge posed by a woman. Add in the fact that it was Felicity and it was impossible. 

“I thought you liked that,” he said softly. 

She made a small, noncommittal noise. “I do, but . . . just . . . after last night . . . you sound extra growly. And it’s . . .” 

Oliver swallowed. “Yeah.” He could almost hear her squirming over the comms, fidgeting and trying to burn off some of the energy, some of the tension. He felt his fingers rub together, for once not imagining a bowstring between his fingers. 

Her soft breathing was all he heard for a few moments. “You’d think this would be the easy part,” she said eventually, saving him from having to ask her to not breathe so loudly because it was turning him on more. “Being together seems like it should be easier than getting together.” 

“Have we done anything the easy way so far?” he asked, a half-smile quirking his lips. 

“No . . . but that’s okay. Because we’re together. And as soon as you get back, we’ll be together and alone and you will be shirtless.” 

Even as he laughed, he felt the tension start coiling in his belly again. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yes,” she said, with that teasing note in her voice that he loved. “Your shirt is mine, Queen.” 

“You only want my shirt, huh?” he asked, craning his neck as he saw lights at the far end of the alley. “I think SCPD is here.” 

“Among other things. So come home.” 

Her standard sign-off warmed his heart, but he couldn’t resist keeping the connection open for an extra minute. Because ‘other things’? That was too promising an opening to pass up. “What other things?” 

There was a long pause and he imagined what she was going to say. But his imagination wasn’t very good, because he wasn’t at all prepared for her to say, in a soft, husky voice, “I was going to say that your ass is mine, too.” 

Before he could even think of how to reply to that, with all the blood in his body rushing to his groin, the gentle crackle of static told him that Felicity had closed the comm link. 

He was on the bike before he even realized it. Throwing a quick look over his shoulder to make sure the SCPD officers were taking care of the dealer, Oliver started the bike and peeled out of the alley. 

Every part of him was at attention. He literally ached and he couldn’t wait any longer for her. It seemed like Felicity was on the same page as him and thank _God_ , it was about time. 

There was a time for talking and a time for doing. This was clearly a time for . . . for doing. 

The ride back to the Foundry seemed to take forever. His mind was filled with images of what they were going to do together, how he’d finally find out everything he wanted to know about Felicity. And swamping all the lust and desire was love. Oliver loved her and she loved him and it was time to stop waiting. 

When he opened the door to the Foundry, he yanked so hard on the handle that it nearly slammed into the opposite wall. Using all his strength, he pulled the door shut, hearing the beeping of the door locks engaging without him even having to say anything to Felicity. 

They were locked in. No interruptions. 

Oliver stalked down the stairs, his eyes searching for her. When he didn’t see her, he felt his throat close up for a moment. “Felicity . . .?” he called out, only to hear a soft rustle from behind him, towards the bathroom. 

“Here,” she said, and he turned to watch her step out of the bathroom. His breath caught--which wasn’t unusual when he looked at Felicity--but tonight it was more. Because . . . because she was wearing a pink button-down and a pencil skirt. 

Like she had the day they met. 

Slowly, Oliver pushed back his hood and pulled off his mask, dropping it to the ground, his eyes locked on hers. “You wore that when we met. If I had known that was what you wanted, I would have changed.” He was fairly sure his voice had never been so deep. 

“You--” Her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. “You’re fine.” 

His lips twisted as he took one step towards her. “You’re sure?” Not looking away from her, he used years of familiarity to unstrap his quiver by feel, setting it down on the ground as well.

God, she made him feel . . . powerful. More than anything else did. Straightening up, Oliver took another step towards her. “You’re sure?” he repeated. Neither of them were up for the long, in-depth discussion he had originally pictured. But he had to ask her. To give her a chance to pull back, just in case she had any doubts. 

Felicity nodded jerkily. “Yes. Shirt off.” 

The tension he could see in every line of her body, the way her voice was in that same seductive tone as before--he knew she meant it. 

For a moment, he considered teasing her a little. Making some crack about how it wasn’t fair for only him to be shirtless. But he wasn’t sure he was up for banter now, so he grabbed the zipper on his jacket and started yanking it down. 

Behind her glasses, her eyes flashed and she closed the distance between them, sliding a hand up his neck to the back of his head before pulling him down towards her. Her mouth pressed against his and her hand started stroking his chest and Oliver immediately stopped caring about anything except her. 

They had probably kissed a hundred times by now, but none of those kisses--not their first, not the one when he had returned, none of them--compared to this one. Because . . . he didn’t know. He’d figure it out later. 

He yanked his gloves off and gripped her hips in his hands, holding her close as they kept kissing. Her fingers spasmed against his neck, then her hands started moving to push his jacket off. 

“Felicity--” he mumbled against her lips. “You’re sure?” Because he couldn’t help thinking that this was going to be a nightmare, that he was once again on the verge of death and being given a moment with her before he was swept away into that dark place again. 

“God, Oliver, stop asking me that--I’ve never been more sure,” she said, pressing kisses against his jaw between each word. “Why do you think I’m wearing this?” 

Laughing against her lips, Oliver looked at her and grinned. She chased everything bad away. “Okay, good point.” 

She beamed up at him and then pushed up the black tech shirt he had been wearing under his jacket. She pouted slightly, making him laugh. “And to think I went braless,” she said mournfully. 

His eyes immediately dropped to her chest, then flew back to her face. “Um . . . sorry?” 

“You should be,” Felicity said, sliding the tech shirt up and making him lift his arms over his head. To reach all the way up, her still-covered chest brushed against his and he let out a soft moan. “But we’ll fix that.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said, focusing on her by tugging her shirt out of the waistband of her skirt. He’d spent a lot of time with his hands underneath her top in the last three weeks, but so far she had only let him take it off a few times--including last night. He took a step back from her and was ready to start unbuttoning, but the way she lifted her chin when she looked up at him made his blood boil. So he took one side of her shirt in each hand and yanked. 

Buttons hit the floor and Oliver grinned smugly as he realized he’d gotten them all in one go. But then he slowly pulled her blouse open all the way and he knew the grin had disappeared. 

Because she was perfect. Of course she was, but he hadn’t been prepared for her to be this perfect. 

“Felicity,” he said, feeling his brain short-circuiting. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” she said softly, smiling at him. “Come here.” 

Oliver leaned in, kissing her hungrily. Feeling his whole world narrow down to his mouth and hers. Telling himself to stay in control, to not let this end too soon. She deserved--no, they deserved--something amazing. 

But then she was gripping his ass. His bare ass. Just like she had told him: his shirt was hers and so was his ass. 

“Wha--?” he groaned, his hips jerking against hers. “Oh, fuck.” 

“I--I wondered--I wasn’t sure if you were the type to curse now,” Felicity said breathlessly, her face flushed and her hair like a halo and he had to kiss her neck. Her hands clenched against him and he nuzzled her, leaning his hips into hers. “Because it’s not like you swear like a sailor normally--ohhh . . .”

He sucked on the skin over her pulse point, swirling his tongue and savoring her taste. The more he learned about her, the more he needed to know. He kissed his way up to her ear, then nipped her earlobe gently. She hissed and groaned. “Damn it, Oliver . . . don’t tease . . .” 

Nodding, Oliver lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. “You’re right. No teasing.” So he pushed her shirt off her shoulders, only to realize he couldn’t get it off with her hands still holding on to him. Changing course, he slid his hands around her waist and fumbled with the zipper on her skirt. 

Felicity’s hands fluttered, releasing his ass before squeezing it even harder than before, and it was all just too much. He reached back, pulling her hands away from him, and then shoved at the rest of her clothes. 

Because she was a genius and amazing and perfect, Felicity settled her hands on his shoulders, kissing him hungrily as he moved her over towards his bed. “Oliver--” she muttered against his lips, pressing against him and making him stumble. He could feel them both falling and somehow managed to land with her on top of him on the bed. 

“Yes . . .” she hissed out, immediately straddling him and running her hands over him. “Oliver, I need you--now--” 

He was too far gone to respond to her. Too lost in all these sensations, the ones he had been fighting all night, the ones that overwhelmed him the minute he stepped into the Foundry. Blinking up at her, Oliver could only nod, feeling the rush of this happening, it was actually _happening_ and--

The moment he lifted his hips and slid inside her, it was like--he felt--oh my God, _Felicity_ \-- 

“I love you,” he gasped out, pulling her down and thrusting deeply. Staring up at her face, feeling like he should memorize it but knowing he didn’t have to. Because this was the woman he’d be looking at every time he would make love for the rest of his life. Seeing a lifetime in her eyes, knowing in his soul that she felt it, that she saw the same thing in his--that she didn’t doubt him, that she believed in them just as much as she believed in him. 

She held on to his shoulders, moving against him, her face flushed and her glasses a little askew, and she was panting and smiling at him and . . . then her eyes closed and her whole body vibrated, around him, and he knew she was coming and she opened her eyes and looked at him and said, her voice ragged, “Oliver, come--” 

But the sound of her saying his name had been enough for him. 

XXX

Oliver tightened his arms around Felicity as he slowly rose out of the dazed almost-sleep he had fallen into after his climax. She burrowed in against him a little, her face pushing a little deeper into his neck, and he couldn’t help grinning. 

“Hey,” he whispered, kissing her temple. “Are you cold?” His feet pushed against the covers, trying to get them loose so he could cover them up, but Felicity shook her head a little. 

“Mmmmm, no. You’re all warm. Body heat.” 

Lightly running one hand along her spine, Oliver brushed another kiss over her forehead before letting his eyes drift shut. He wanted so much: to talk to Felicity and find out what she was thinking, to go for round two and act like a man who knew something about sex, to take Felicity to Big Belly for a late-night dinner and watch her smile at him from across the table. 

All his wants and desires and needs, at this moment, revolved around her. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t a matter of wanting because he had nothing else. 

He had Felicity, in his arms. Everything else could wait for now. 

End.


End file.
